


Veux-tu m'épouser?

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Pegging, Porn with Feelings, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florianne, now an agent for the Inquisition, persuades the prison guard to lend her the keys to Erimond's cell. (Contains references to 'Visne mihi nubere?')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veux-tu m'épouser?

**Author's Note:**

> A few people expressed interest in the possibility of a fic with Florianne pegging Erimond, and so here we have it! Also, a little bit of fluff. Just because.

Charming her way into the dungeons had been easy. Persuading the guard to lend her the keys to his cell had posed more of a challenge, but it was hardly reminiscent of the thrills she’d experienced as a player of  _The Game._ The prisoner barely reacted at the sound of the key in the lock, though she did notice the slightest twitch of his nose as he caught the scent of her perfume. _Jasmine, rose absolute and orange flowers._

“Well, you certainly look dreadful.” She still spoke softly whenever she visited him. The way her voice echoed in the dungeons was unsettling. His laugh was a harsh, crackling sound.

“You always know  _just_ how to make me feel better,  _amata.”_

“When  _was_ the last time you shaved, Livius?” she asked, tugging playfully at his beard as she crouched down next to him. “Or do you plan to become unrecognisable, like Rainier? To escape and start a new life with the Grey Wardens? I fear they just  _might_ recognise you.” He snorted.

“And what would be the point? Aeliana told me herself. Corypheus is…”

“Yes, he is  _gone_. And does that mean you give up on Tevinter? On…” She caught herself before she faltered. “Everything?” For a moment he looked as if he might answer, and she took the opportunity to slide onto the bedroll on the opposite side of the cell. Uncomfortable as it was, it at least seemed relatively clean. Still, she was careful not to let her fur cloak touch the ground.

“This provides an opportunity,” Florianne continued, stretching her legs out towards him. “With the Breach sealed, the Inquisition has fulfilled its purpose. There is no reason for its continued existence…they  _may_ begin to release prisoners who are no longer  _perceived_  as a threat.” 

“Turncoats,” he said bluntly, though she noticed he didn’t flinch when her boot grazed his thigh. “You  _hate_  wearing flat shoes.” She laughed.

“I do.” He began to unlace one, fingers caressing the leather with a familiar tenderness. She had almost forgotten how delicate his hands could be. “Your loyalty to your master is admirable.” _Stupid, but nonetheless admirable._ The boot slipped off her calf. “Even after you made him an offer and failed to deliver. Some time ago, you also made me an offer…” She felt his hands tense as he began to unlace the other boot.

“An offer you made it quite clear you had no interest in.” 

“Why would you think that?” He slid the second boot off, carefully setting it to the side.

“Oh, perhaps it was the way you teased me mercilessly for weeks afterwards? Or the way you laughed at the very idea that I thought you might even  _entertain_ such a notion?  _Kaffas,_ I-” Her foot pressed against the inside of his thigh again and he barely suppressed a whimper.

“I didn’t yet give you my answer. Aren’t you interested?” Her toes skimmed over his erection, and the noise he made gave her the answer she’d been expecting. After a few more well-measured strokes, she glanced at the space on the bedroll next to her - he quickly took the hint.

“Do you have any idea how many marriage proposals I rejected during my time in the Orlesian court?” she whispered, slowly beginning to unbutton his trousers. “I lost count a long time ago-” He groaned.

“Why exactly are you telling me this?” Florianne laughed and kissed his cheek, finding his beard surprisingly soft against her lips. 

“You are _dense_ , Livius.” She continued to peel his clothes off even as he shivered against her, wrapping her cloak around them both. “I’m telling you about proposals I  _rejected.”_ Suddenly, he jerked away from her, looking down to admire the fine dragonbone… _implement_ between her legs.

“You brought…” He shook his head, laughing again. “It’s  _cold_ though _,”_ he complained.

“I seem to remember you being rather fond of it,” she grinned, running her fingers slowly along its length. “And I thought it might amuse you. Though if you prefer, I can remove-”

“No.” Small flames formed at his fingertips as he ran his own hand over it, taking care that the fire did not spread. He writhed and whimpered as she slid a smooth, gloved finger inside him, but somehow managed to focus on warming the dragonbone.

“It appears my memories were accurate,” she said, speaking no differently than if she were reciting the Chant of Light as a second finger joined the first. With her other hand, Florianne reached for the lotion she kept in her pouch, all the while wringing out some of the most needy sounds she’d ever heard. “We’ve barely even begun, and just _listen_ to yourself. I’m surprised you’re not already  _begging_ _._ ” As she smeared the lotion over the dildo, he repositioned himself in her lap, rubbing his cheek against the soft fur of her cloak.

“I don’t  _beg,”_ he insisted. If she’d been sure they’d have had time enough before the guard returned, she would have taken great pleasure in proving otherwise. Instead, she simply smiled at his reaction as gloved fingers were replaced by dragonbone.

“You see? You look better already,” she said, tilting his chin upwards. “Look at  _me.”_ To her surprise Livius was able to hold her gaze, distracted as he was. In the unnatural light of the dungeons his eyes glittered, neither blue nor green. 

It wasn’t long before his movements became so frantic that she could barely move her own hips.

“Oh Livius,” she sighed, looking straight into his eyes. “You’ve been down here… _how_  long now? And you haven’t pleasured yourself? Not even  _once_?” At that, he did look away, though his embarrassment did little to curb his enthusiasm. Gently, she guided his hand to his cock, her fingers still intertwined with his as he began to stroke himself. Her other hand clutched the furs tighter as they threatened to slip away. He started to mutter something unintelligible in Tevene before she pulled him closer and kissed him, catching his bottom lip between her teeth as he shuddered violently against her.

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” Florianne asked, wiping his blood from her lips.

“Excuse me?” 

“It means-”

“I-I know what it means,” he said quickly, still attempting to regain some measure of composure. The small but deliberate thrust she gave was not helping. “My Orlesian isn’t  _that_ poor. After all, Tevene is a  _much_  more complex language-”

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” she repeated.

“Non.” She raised an eyebrow, and he looked down. “Amata, I’m…happy with the way things are. Between us, at least. I can’t say I’m  _enamoured_  with this accommodation. Besides, ‘Florianne Erimond’ sounds absolutely ridiculous.” She laughed  _that_ laugh, like butterflies on a spring breeze, and kissed him again.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say,  _mon chéri.”_


End file.
